The Institute According to Church
by HarpZephyr
Summary: View the glamoured world of Nephilim, Downworlders and demons as seen by a certain Persian cat.   Warning: spoilers, Post-Clockwork Angel  Completely in POV of our fave immortal cat, Church
1. June 21 to 24, 1878

_So this was just an idea that popped into my head about an hour and a half ago while playing scrabble (yeah don't ask). I couldn't resist writing this down - it was supposed to be just a few notes for later, but I thought what the heck, I've got a three-day weekend, why not use time (for this is not wasting time!) late at night to actually elaborate on my latest brainfart. Yes, I just used the word brainfart. It was either that or brainchild and I'm not sure which this 'story' truly qualifies as. Anyway, I love the idea of the immortal Persian cat, Church, so here are his thoughts!_

_Also, I plan to add more to this as I am able to, so if you want more, please be patient, and I promise it will come!  
Just for clarification: I am not the owner of any of the characters, world or pretty much anything having to do with the magnificent Cassandra Clare's Infernal Devices (or for that matter, Mortal Instruments) books, only really the thoughts the cat as follows..._

_

* * *

_

**Saturday June 21st 1878**

Finally freed of that hellish crypt-like abode. All I know for certain is that something peculiar and sparkly occurred. I can barely recall any details leading up to my release.

I am not always partial to the scent of the one who saved me. It fluctuated throughout today, I noticed.

Upon arriving in this cavernous establishment, I had long lost all senses save my sight while enduring horrors up until this point. However, I have since regained my senses while here, noticing that I have in fact acquired much heightened senses since… since… Mouse.

Mmmmm. Victuals.

I plan to leave one of my freshly caught and mangled delights on the sleeping area of the one who saved me. He should enjoy my display of appreciation.

* * *

**Saturday Evening**

The one who saved me has an accomplice, well, more of a frequent companion and that companion certainly did not appreciate my demonstration of gratitude. Alas, my furry, warm-blooded offering was returned to me in a rather callous, yet, I suspect, vindictive manner by that dark-haired companion. I find him to be rather obstreperous.

In retrospect, it was never _meant_ for him. He simply claims to be acting on behalf of the one who saved me.

I have yet to discover the reasoning as to why the one who saved me is so often around this raucous creature as opposed to my own delightful company.

I intend to make a contribution, or rather leave a 'pleasant' surprise, to the latter anon.

* * *

**Sunday June 22nd**

There was a short female I was just picked up by. Yes, I did say "picked up." Like a familiar. Yet, there was something different about her, that set her apart from the female evils I dealt with before coming here. Whatever it was, it made me aspire to earn her trust as well as trust her myself.

She acted in charge of everything that went on here. I took it to mean she really was in charge and so proceeded accordingly, purring while in her extensive, bent paws and rubbing the top of my head against whatever came in contact with it first. All in all, not a wholly unpleasant experience. I suppose I might be able to endure such a few times more, particularly as it poses to earn me favour.

I believe the one who saved me called her 'Shore-lit' or maybe it was 'Charlotte.' Yes, that does make more sense. And in return, she named him 'Gem.' Like... nem from nemisis or… hem… or maybe even bem. No, that last one doesn't really make sense. Maybe Charlotte actually meant 'Jem,' derived from James, meaning supplant, as in James the Greater or King James, that is if we're talking humans, because there is always my cousin James, or that annoying rat from last week two cages over from mine, James. Anyway, returning from that tangent.

Jem. That does sound better.

* * *

**Monday June 23rd**

That girl I keep hearing mentioned has apparently been asked and agreed to stay on. I heard someone say her name, at least I think it's Tessa. Or maybe Miss Gray. I sometimes hear her called Teresa.

I sniffed her.

* * *

**Tuesday June 24th**

Occasionally, when either Jem or his freaky companion figure arrive here covered in blood, as they apparently do often, judging by the reactions of the rest of this place's occupants, I get a whiff of them and flashes of the horrid events from creepy town go through my mind.

The first time this happened, Jem entered, limping slightly, but untouched by the putrid, dark fluid that his dark-haired companion seemed to be nearly drenched in. This was the first time a memory came to me, vivid as if it were right after my nap. I recalled several creatures not unlike myself being sacrificed, their fresh blood being used to outline a fantastic and horrifying blackened design that spiraled out from the center of the floor.

The exquisite Jem, noticing my aversion to his companion while I grimaced and pawed at my flattened small nose, came over after shooing away 'Will,' a congenial name, in my mind, which I refuse to associate with the grotesque, rank, dark-haired accomplice.


	2. June 25 to 26

_I doubt I'll be able to post this fast in the future, but we'll see. I'm having a lot of fun with this particular POV. Disclaimer: The usual about how the brilliant Cassie Clare owns this world I do not as well as the fact that I certainly don't share the same view as our dear Church on reading books (see below)_

* * *

**Wednesday June 25th**

Day five at this new and rather pristine abode.

There is a long stick with a large coarse tassel at the bottom of it with fluff attached to one end moving towards me. It comes barely within reach, then whooshes away as if indifferent to me. Here it comes at me again! I missed it… And again! Nope. Nada.

The partly mangled one has always pretended to ignore me as I make my daily rounds through the few halls with which I am actually familiar in this labyrinth. I have decided she must have been involved in an exchange with someone rather cantankerous, and though the outcome was not in her favor, well… she's glaring at me. Is she actually paying attention to me? She's holding the large stick with fluff. That does explain why it discontinued our game of tag.

Right. Dust bunnies - not to be considered my own objects of play when someone else is quite obviously ushering them around the floor for their _own_ amusement. I sneeze. They tasted bad anyway.

Mental note: Find the mangled one's clandestine reserve of them later.

* * *

**Thursday June 26th**

There was one sizeable room I recall that I had come across rather by accident a few days ago. It was filled a mass of nooks and crannies with dust bunnies. But that isn't my paramount incentive of finding it again. People always seem to be in there or at least coming and going. It is considered a social haven for some and yet seems to be an advantageous location in order to keep track of all current undertakings in this place. Perfect for a nap with the occasional one eye open routine to remain updated on the statuses of all states of affairs. I see no downside to such an opportunity.

* * *

**Thursday midday**

That was until _she_ came in here.

I had not pegged her initially as the solitary type despite that it was here in the library, as I have heard this room to be named, that I first sniffed her. When I made reference to this as being a social haven, I reckoned of all the humans that Miss Tessa Gray creature would keep her paws out of here in alternative to staying active and up to date in the London social scene.

Yet, apparently, as I have heard my remarkable Jem mention in passing, this is Miss Gray's daily custom. Unless Charlotte or someone else requires her, Miss Gray, er- Tessa retires to the softest high back chair in the room with a new book each day. The nerve!

It is not so much that I mind one of the humans occupying this room as well, but she's here for so long of a time! How can one bare to sit with their head declining for such a long period of time! Can a rectangular object of varying size and width be so involving that someone should do this day after day without fail? It's like clockwork! Whatever that is.

I just cannot fathom such interest. I attempted to, I swear, but it is simply too bizarre and unnatural to me.

So in an attempt to resolve this mystery, I leapt onto the arm of Miss Tessa's chair once and peered at the rectangular item with absolute boredom. None of it generated any lick of fascination within me. After awhile, she flicked something from one side to the other and I realized what potential this rectangle actually had.

A new plaything! To double check, I of course sniffed first, and when I had rationalized out that there could be little harm done by this smallish rectangle, I took a swipe at it. I did not have time to see if anything happened, however, as Miss Tessa was certainly startled by my sudden movement. It resulted in her jolting and an elbow making contact with my chest which sent me flying into a bookshelf about a meter away. That human is a strong one. Not as strong as my beloved Jem, of course, but stronger than the average female her age, I believe.

The flat edge of the bookshelf would have hurt less, but no, my back struck the vertical edge of the wooden shelf. I speculate optimistically that metal or stone would have been more painful, yet still.

As I land perfectly on all four paws despite the ache in my spine, I note the open door ahead of me with dear Jem and beside him, his recalcitrant dark-haired companion. Of course they are witness to what just went down between the rectangle, the elbow and myself. Jem, always the gentleman, is the only one of the two making an effort to stifle his mirth as he arrives to check me over.

Stupid rectangle.


	3. June 27

_Hey, sorry it's been so long since I last posted. This had been the most insane week at school. Who knew one week could be so full of craziness, absolute choas, I swear. Anyway, on with Church! (Disclaimer: Cassie Clare owns all the characters, I just control Church's mind). _

* * *

**Thursday June 27th**

I have discovered an additional locality aside from the library which cyclically puts me amid the updates of the day's endeavors. Additionally, I believe I have decoded a common program the populace of this abode follow, which includes flocking to this region of the institution thrice daily.

Not only do I have the propensity to obtain free victuals from my lovely Jem, but also from anyone else who displays any bête-noir to what gastronomy they are given. It is with distress I reveal how their food arrives - no exhilarating pursuit involved. How monotonous and lackluster.

I originally deduced that such excursions away from our abode, resulting in their return covered in putrid blood, were due to their hunts for food obviously. It is not like they would find any sort of victuals here which pleased them, seeing as my own source of food includes the mice which are too diminutive to be substantial. Also, the humans apparently find such unappetizing as illustrated by the fair, light-gold colored maiden who has a rather corpulent lower half in comparison to her very slight upper half for upon the sight of any of my own delights, her shrieks can be heard from any corner of this institute quite clearly which are followed with either fainting or grabbing up her excessive sides and scurrying in the opposite direction.

However, I realized over time that none of the food they ate smelled anything like that of the blood much of their garments reeked of whenever they returned from some grueling task. All I know is that they would not in such situations if they bothered to spend more time with me.

I am very curious now as to what it is they would bother hunting if not for the purpose of consuming. This mystery is just one added to the catalog of many that I shall eventually illuminate regarding the creatures who dwell in this institute.

Since I arrived, my log of such conundrums has grown exponentially to comprise of such as follows:

1. Grooming: they only do so a few times a day (not including the flaxen young girl).

2. Napping: instead of a multitude of transient dozes over time, they are cataleptic most of the dark hours and occasionally for part of the first light hours. This of course does not include my Jem's dark haired companion who simply recedes into the dark shadows of the streets unaccompanied, only to return for a single catnap before congregating with all others in the gratis victual area.

3. Drinks: On the rare occasion the dark haired accomplice will return early morn just before up above becomes light, but not in his normal self-contemplative state.

Note to self: Never, by no means, on no account ever approach him when he even remotely smells of fermented drink, or else plan on ending up with a slight restyling of neck fur, something sharp quivering in the wood less than a hair's length from neck and Jem storming in to save my life from another sharp object coming flying at me. Claws are not useful in such a situation. Actually, just don't end up in the situation in the first place.

4. Follow-up on drinks: Never lick that which the dark haired accomplice has as well. After-effects of fermented beverages are not agreeable with cats, yet there is some green leafy object that smells and tastes delicious giving analogous results to me as the fermented drinks do Jem's dark haired companion.

5. Leafy green objects: Delicious. Must find out what and where they are.

And now today's:

6. Food: they do not in fact consume what they hunt, yet have some colossal reserve of food that appears ad infinitum from enigmatic quarters of this abode.

* * *

_AN: I don't know if I'll have something for you by next weekend (Halloween! Get excited) But I certainly have a list of things for Church to accomplish/discover/whatever that will be added to here at one point or another._


End file.
